At Peace When Safe At Last Again
by Russingon5eva
Summary: Idril wakes one night, five months after Fingon's disappearance, to wingbeats and footsteps. Is Fingon finally back?


Idril woke up with a start. She slowly sat up and looked around. Was that the flapping of wings? She listened harder, but didn't hear anything else, merely the wind creaking at the door. She lay back down again, but did not close her eyes nor did she drift off. All at once, she heard a pitter-patter of feet in the hallway. She shot up and quietly climbed out of bed, tip-toed to the door. She pushed it open a crack and peaked into the hallway. She slapped her hand over her mouth to keep from shouting out when she saw who it was, merely for the fact that her uncle was not alone. He was supporting another elf; almost carrying them towards his private rooms. Idril waited until the duo disappeared around the corner, then quickly and quietly made her way towards Fingon's rooms. Voices reached her ears as she neared the door. They were talking too softly for her to hear and by the time she was close enough to listen through the door, the voices were hushed and the only sound was someone quietly digging through something. Idril backed up and stared at the crack-open doorway; wondering whether to knock or just go wake everyone else. While she stood there pondering, the noises went silent and then there were footsteps again, only this time more hurried. Idril backed up even more and turned to go back to her bed, but the door creaked open before she could leave. She turned to face her uncle who looked a bit surprised to see her.

"Idril, what are you doing out and about this late?"

She poked her toe into the ground nervously, not looking up at him. "I..I heard wings and then footsteps. I just wanted to see who it was."

She heard more then saw her uncle crouch down to her level. Fingon touched her shoulder and she looked up at him. "I'm not going to punish you." He whispered. "I was just wondering. I thought I was being quiet enough to not wake anyone."

"It wasn't you actually. The wings woke me up and that's why I heard your feet." Idril took her eyes off the ground suddenly. "Who was that with you? I saw someone with you. Where are they now?"

Fingon sighed. "He is Maedhros. My cousin. We were best friends back in Valinor...and as for where he is now, he's asleep and I don't want to wake him, so let us take this conversation somewhere else. I need to get some bandages."

"Bandages?" Idril hurried to keep up with him, "You're not hurt, are you Uncle Fingon?"

"Only badly bruised. No, Maedhros is the one who is hurt."

"Really? Why?" Idril tipped her head to watch Fingon collect what he needed and asked curiously. Fingon sighed again, only this time more deeply.

"It's kind of a complicated story and..." He stopped and didn't say anything until they were making their way back to Fingon's quarters. "35 years is a rather long time to be imprisoned." He finally said.

Idril nodded, pretending to understand what he meant. "Should I go tell everyone that you're back and have someone with you?" She asked after a long silence.

Fingon paused in front of the door, thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Why not?" He muttered, "They'd find out sooner or later anyway. Why don't you go wake them?"

Idril nodded and hurried down the hall to her grandfather's room, no longer afraid of waking anyone up. She pushed open the door and walked over to the bed. She climbed up onto it and started shaking him. "Haru! Haru!" (1)

Fingolfin blinked awake. When he saw who was shaking him, he looked a bit surprised.

"Idril, what are you doing out and about this late?"

Idril opened her mouth to reply, then slapped her hand over her mouth and started chuckling.

"What is so funny Idril?" Fingolfin sat up and stared at her.

Idril shook with suppressed laughter for a few more moments, then took her hand off her mouth. "Uncle Fingon asked me the same question when he caught me outside his door earlier."

"That's nice." Fingolfin fought back a yawn, then choked on it as realization of what Idril had said struck him. "Did you just say that Fingon..."

"Asked me the same question? Yep."

"You mean he's...where is he?"

"Should be in his quarters." Idril said, yawning broadly.

Fingolfin jumped up and almost ran to his oldest son's rooms.

The door was ajar when he got there and he wasn't sure whether to knock or just go in.

Finally, he swallowed and took a step over the threshold.

"Fingon?" He called. The figure hunched over by the bed jerked up.

"I'm awake!" He cried out tiredly. Fingolfin was barely able to keep from rushing over and grabbing his son and holding him tight and never letting him go and instead just calmly walked over and touched his son's shoulder.

Fingon flinched at first, but then stood and turned around to face his father. For a moment, father and son were frozen, just staring at each other, then Fingon blinked and he was in the tight circle of his father's strong arms. He tensed; then relaxed and rested his head on Fingolfin's chest.

"Hey Adar." Fingolfin's embrace tightened and he pressed his lips onto the top of his son's head.

"Where have you been Fingon?" Fingon tensed again and did not loosen up.

For a few minutes, there was silence. Then..."Thangorodrim." He whispered and Fingolfin's heart constricted.

"Why were you there?" He asked, almost afraid of the answer, but Fingon's reply soothed him somewhat.

"Someone had to get Maitimo. His brothers weren't going to do it and a full-on assault wouldn't work, so I snuck in."

"And...?"

"And after what seemed like months of searching, I found him. Oh Adar, it was horrible. I knew Morgoth was beyond cruel, but...Morgoth hung him to the cliff by his right hand. When I found him, I tried to get to him, but to no avail. He asked me to kill him; to shoot him with my bow and free him in the only way possible...I would've done it. I was going to do it. But Manwë sent Thorondor and I was able to reach him. The cuff and chain were both unbreakable and he begged again for death." Fingon stopped then and buried his face deeper into his father's chest.

After a long silence, he began again. "I did the only other thing that could be done. I...I..." Fingon broke down and Fingolfin stroked his head, whispering meaningless words to try and comfort him.

"I shattered the bones in his arm with a rock then cut through the flesh...I cut off his hand."

Silence reigned for a few more minutes and neither father or son noticed Idril slip in, followed by Turgon and Aredhel.

"At my request, Thorondor bore us here. It was his wingbeats that woke Idril as I understand."

Fingolfin placed a hand on Fingon's cheek. "It was months." He said softly.

Fingon stared up at him. "What?"

"Five months to be exact. YOu were gone for so long...I was afraid..." Fingolfin choked on the words; unable to finish, but Fingon seemed to understand and embraced his father even more tightly.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, "But I had to..."

"Say no more; I understand. I'm just glad you're safe." Fingolfin remembered something Fingon had said and pulled out of the tight embrace.

"You said you were able to free Maedhros?"

Neither hear Aredhel gasp and neither saw Turgon's eyes narrow.

Fingon merely nodded and turned his gaze to the bed where a red haired elf lay. Fingolfin reached over and touched his half-nephew's pale cheek. Maedhros shivered, but did not wake.

While Fingolfin's attention was directed on Maedhros, Fingon let an enormous yawn loose, hoping for it to go unnoticed, but he had no such luck. Fingolfin had indeed noticed and pushed his elder son down onto the bed next to Maedhros' sleeping form. Fingon's eyes began to slide closed as he yawned, but they shot open, having the look of someone who wanted to rest, but felt that he still had an important duty to do.

Fingolfin knew what worried his son before he could say and he pushed Fingon back down firmly. "Don't worry. I'll watch over Mae-Maitimo." He corrected himself.

Fingon yawned broadly and rolled onto his side, pressing his face into Maedhros' shoulder. Maedhros shifted in his sleep and laid his head against Fingon's (2). Fingolfin smiled slightly and moved the blanket to cover both of them. "Rest peacefully." His hand drifted from Fingon's cheek to Maedhros'. "You're safe now."

* * *

**1: Grandfather...I think. If it's not, please correct me.**

**2: Not meant to be taken in a homosexual way. Feel free to take it that way though. This piece was written back when I didn't (that means DID NOT people) ship Russingon (sorry, that's my friends and I's ship name for Maedhros and Fingon [only we used 'Russandol' instead of Maedhros because it was easier to mash together] ) and even though I do now...sort of...I didn't then and so if I had written it say yesterday, there would have been a bit more of an obvious Russingon...existence. Sorry. Maybe I'll re-write it sometime as Russingon ship, not just friendship. Maybe. (that really means probably not)**

**A/N: Yeah, I know that Fingolfin supposedly has no love for the sons of Fëanor, but he isn't heartless like his hated half-brother (Sorry Fëanor, but it's kind of true) and I think he would have some sympathy for Maedhros, especially knowing what's been happening to him for the past 35ish years. **


End file.
